The Shauna Caffrey Files
by theprincessspy
Summary: Shauna Caffrey is Neal's 16-year-old sister. Like her brother, she's brilliant. Unlike her brother, she doesn't care to take chances. But he's family, and she'll follow him to the end of the world...or wherever the show goes next.  A series of one-shots.
1. Meet Shauna Caffrey

A/N: Shauna is technically a Mary Sue. I just hope she's a decently written one. Her episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to White Collar lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Will never be slash. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show. This chapter has mild spoilers through Season 1, Episode 11.

Someone knocked on the door. Neal froze, his eyes darting about, and then he shoved a book in her hand. "Stay here. I've got to answer this."

She brought the open book to her face and held it there. She couldn't see the door, which meant their visitor couldn't see her, but she heard everything. "Hey, what are you doing here? I mean..."

Another pair of footsteps entered the room, and then the door shut. "Elizabeth decided it was time to get the house painted. The whole place smells toxic enough to kill."

"Uh-huh." Neal could be quite the non-conversationalist when he wanted to be.

"So I thought I'd come over here."

"I don't remember..."

"Su casa es mi casa, remember?" The new footsteps walked to the fridge.

"That's not what I said." There was an edge to Neal's voice. "Do you want me to get you a hotel? I can do that. You'd be sleeping on the couch here, and..."

"I don't mind the couch. It's better than feeling like I'm going to be poisoned to death in my own bedroom." The refrigerator door opened and closed, and then the footsteps headed towards the table. Towards the couch.

She pulled the book closer to her face, as if that was going to hide her entire body.

"But what if..." Neal trailed off.

She pulled the book down and made eye contact with the suit who had barged in without warning. He looked old at first, but then she decided it was stress that made him look that way. And he was definitely not smiling when he asked, "How old are you?"

She blinked. It was not the question she'd expected, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Neal shrug. Couldn't hurt to answer this one truthfully. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen!" The suit exploded, and he whirled back to Neal. Gone was the congenial tone of a guy coming to sleep on the couch. This guy was first and foremost a suit. "Neal, you've got to be kidding! I've turned a blind eye to a lot of stuff, but this – this is statutory rape!"

She sat up on the couch as Neal stared at the visitor. "What? Peter, I..."

"She's sixteen!"

"I didn't..."

The agent took a step towards Neal, his hands digging in his pockets for something. Handcuffs? "I've had it with your excuses!"

Neal's eyes were wide with innocence – not that his expressions were ever the best sign of his honesty. He held his hands up in mild surrender, but she could see his eyes darting about the room, marking escape routes. If it came to that. "Peter, I did not touch her. Seriously. I promise. That would be..."

"You promise." The suit – Peter – laughed wryly, but he seemed mollified for the moment and turned back to the couch. His eyes met hers. "Then why are you here? Don't you know he's a felon? Did he tell you that? Did he? Did he?"

Behind him, Neal was combining exasperation and innocence into one single eye-roll.

She met Peter's eyes. "He did. He told me."

"But you fell for him anyway."

"I did not fall for him." She tried to keep the disgust out of her face but didn't quite succeed. "No way."

Peter pressed his lips together. "Don't worry. He does that to everybody. What's your name?"

She hesitated just long enough to see Neal's nod, then smiled. "Shauna. Shauna Caffrey."

Peter froze.

Behind him, Neal raised his eyebrows and shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping forward. "Peter, let me introduce you to my little sister. Shauna, this is Peter Burke."

She grinned. Neal grinned. Peter Burke scowled, then stuck out his hand. "Let's start over. I'm Agent Burke. You better tell me that you're some random girl Neal picked up at a nightclub-

"I do not pick up random girls at nightclubs," interrupted Neal coldly.

"He has more class than that," Shauna told Peter.

"Oh he does, does he?" Peter did not look convinced, and she didn't really blame him. But then he shrugged. "So where did you meet Neal, Shauna...Doe?"

She wracked her brain for the surname on her current license. It had changed over the years. Jones, Mitchell, Davis. "Simpson. I'm Shauna Simpson. I met Neal in Central Park, and I'm eighteen."

"What was wrong with twenty-one?"

And as Peter looked genuinely curious, Shauna answered gave him an honest answer. "I only have one license right now. It says I'm eighteen, and Neal won't fix it for me. Or," she added, glaring at her brother but very much enjoying the horrified expression on Peter's face, "make me another one."

"Underage drinking and all that," said Neal, shrugging as if things like laws were of great importance in his world. "Wouldn't be right."

"Of course not," said Peter, shaking his head. He looked back at Shauna. "Nice to meet you."


	2. The Dangerous Hand

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to White Collar lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has mild spoilers through Season 1, Episode 11, and major spoilers from Season 1 Episode 12. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place during the show, after Neal meets with Keller and begins work on the Benjamin Franklin bottle, but before Jones calls off the idea. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

"Shauna?" Peter stopped with his finger pressed against the elevator button. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to talk to Neal." Her hands were shoved in her pockets, her toe scuffing the floor.

Peter frowned, then shrugged and pressed the button all the way down. The elevator hummed as it headed down towards them.

"No, that's not true." She looked up suddenly and met his eyes. "That's not true."

"What? A Caffrey admitting to a lie? Never thought I'd see the day." Peter turned when the elevator dinged and gestured with his hand. "Come on. I'm late."

She didn't move, and when she spoke, her words came out in a rush. "I came to talk to you."

"I'm flattered. Why?" He stepped into the elevator and pressed his arm against the door to keep it open. "You coming?"

She followed him and tried to ignore the closeness of the walls, shutting her eyes. "I need to talk to you," she repeated. "About Neal."

"Great." Peter jabbed the button for the third floor. The elevator began to rise. "Talk."

"He can't know!" Shauna reached out to pull his arm away from the buttons, but it was too late. She caught herself and shrank to the other side of the elevator. She swallowed, tried to calm herself down. "Look. When I go in there, tell me that you need to speak to me, that I'm in trouble."

Peter said nothing. She wasn't sure he understood.

"You know," she explained, switching to a deep voice, "'Shauna! Come here this minute! You have some explaining to do."

"I don't sound like that."

She eyed the numbers ticking away above the elevator door. "Please, Burke!"

The elevator stopped. Peter watched the doors crack open, then nodded without looking at her. "If you're going to drag me into this, you better make it convincing."

"I will." She pressed herself against the wall so that she couldn't be seen by anyone in the office. Anyone being Neal. The doors closed after Peter, and she pressed her palm against every single button. It was ten minutes before she could convince the elevator to stop on the third floor again, and by that time she was sweating.

She stepped into the office. It smelled like coffee, like coffee and old printer ink and some sort of lemon cleaner. Neal's desk was on her right, and he saw her immediately. "Shauna, what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you." She didn't even look up to Burke's second-level office as she stepped to Neal's desk. "What are you doing?"

Like she needed to ask. His desk was covered with research on 18th century wines. Papers covered the desk, and a few had even fallen to the floor. He never would have been this careless if he'd been doing the forgery illegally. No matter how involved he was in a project, Neal kept his workspace clean. Organized. Easy to pack up in case of an...emergency. Emergency being an unexpected visit from the authorities.

"We're going to need to find some wax." He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, and she tried to remember what time he'd gone to bed the night before. She couldn't remember. She'd been asleep. "Beeswax, if we can. 18th century beeswax would be even better."

"Mozzie can't find any?"

"Not within a week." He sighed.

Shauna began, "What if..."

Peter's bellowed throughout the office, "What were you thinking, Shauna Simpson?"

Within half a second, the eyes of the entire room were fixed on her. Shauna met Neal's gaze and shrugged innocently, a move she'd learned from him, then looked up to the top of the stairs where Peter stood. "What?"

"You better have a good explanation for this."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked at Neal. "What's he talking about?"

Neal shrugged. Innocently. "Haven't a clue."

"I need to see you in my office, Shauna," Peter continued. "Now."

Aware that everyone was still watching, Shauna shook her head. "I didn't do anything!"

"Now, Shauna!"

"But I'm..."

Peter stopped sounding like a parent and started looking like one, or at least what Shauna thought one should look like. The eyebrows were raised, the head tilted to the side. The look given before someone starts counting to ten.

"I'll come with you." Neal shoved his chair back. "This is ridiculous."

"I'm only coming if Neal's coming," Shauna told Peter.

"You're coming because I say so," rejoined Peter. "And Neal is not coming. You think I need two Caffr—two of you giving me excuses?"

Shauna shouldered past Neal. "I'm fine."

"But..."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing." But if he was suspicious, he didn't show it. He walked back to his desk as Shauna ascended the stairs, stalked past Peter into his office, and slouched down in the office chair.

Peter closed the door. "You're just as good of an actor as Neal. Makes me wonder what else you have up your sleeve."

Shauna smiled and said absolutely nothing.

Peter folded his hands on the desk. "So now that we've caused a scene, I'd love to know what it is you wanted to talk to me about."

"Keller."

"What about him?"

"I don't like him."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "I don't like him either, and neither does Neal. But we can't arrest a man just because we don't like him. That's the problem. That's why Neal's recreating the Franklin bottle..."

"No," said Shauna. "It's not."

Peter waited for her to complete the thought, and when she didn't, he said, "Explain yourself."

"Keller is playing Neal." She swallowed and risked a glance down at the first-level office. Neal was at his desk, bent over his research. "I don't know what Keller is doing, or what his plan is, but he's got something up his sleeve. He's...dangerous."

"I think we're aware of that," said Peter wryly.

"He's dangerous and brilliant," continued Shauna. "He's _smart_, Peter. Neal wasn't kidding when he said Keller was his blue-collar version. Keller isn't your average crook. He's got brains."

"Neal has more." Peter shrugged confidently, as if Neal's brains could get them out of anything, and then he locked his gaze on Shauna. "Doesn't he?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. He does."

"Then what are you so worried about?"

"Keller's got _guns_." She waited for a response, but she didn't get one. "Neal doesn't do guns, which means that Keller has the advantage..."

Peter cut her off. "Neal hates guns because he says they're for the unintelligent. If he's right, don't you think you could be overrating Keller?"

"Neal hates guns because they kill people," said Shauna flatly. "There's nothing more to it than that. And because he won't use them and everyone else will, well, it makes him have to work twice as hard to get anything accomplished."

Peter paused. "You're saying that everything Neal does, he does with one hand tied behind his back. His dangerous hand."

She thought about it, then nodded.

"That should worry me." Peter stood up and talked while he stacked an already pristinely stacked pile of papers. "But Keller here doesn't mind killing people, and he's almost as smart as Neal. Which makes him dangerous."

"Almost as smart just means that he's smarter than most," Shauna reminded him, standing up also. "No one holds a candle to Neal."

"You're biased."

"I'm right." She walked to the door, then turned back, her hand on the door handle. "And I'm right about Keller. He's playing Neal. I'm sure of it. I know him."

"I'll look into it. You have any idea of what he's planning?"

"Me?" She rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I'm not the genius here." Which was technically true, because _here_ also included Peter and Neal. Not that she wouldn't have passed for genius in any other company.

On the lower level, Neal jumped out of his chair and hurried to the foot of the stairs when he saw her exit the office. "What was wrong?"

She pushed away all thoughts of Keller and guns and Neal's dangerous hand tied behind his back. "Oh, you know Peter. Always blaming one of us when something goes wrong."

He laughed a little. "That's what happens when you're a Caffrey."


	3. She Should Have Been There S1E13

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has mild spoilers through Season 1, Episode 12, and major spoilers from Season 1 Episode 13. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place during the show, when Neal is entering the club under Agent Rice's direction, and Burke and Gless are having coffee back at the agency. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

Shauna pushed open the glass door of the FBI office with the back of her fist. There was no need to leave obvious fingerprints. Burke was in what was supposed to be a lunchroom but what seemed to be more of a corner appropriated for coffee. It led one to assume that FBI Agents drank only coffee for lunch, which, Neal said, wasn't far from the truth.

"Shauna?"

She tried to smile at him, but she was nervous. And angry. "I was shadowing. Neal made me leave. He didn't want me around."

"Of course he didn't. It's not good manners to shadow an FBI operation." Burke nodded to the gentleman sitting at the table. "This is Gless."

Shauna wasn't in the mood to see Gless. She forced a smile – and unlike most people's forced smiles, hers was quite convincing – and shook his hand. "Shauna Simpson. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. I'm so sorry about your daughter."

Peter looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

Gless didn't notice. He shook her hand limply, without meeting her eyes. "It won't be much longer."

Peter nodded at her confusion. "Pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down. Gless is waiting for Rice and Neal to come back with Lindsey."

"I thought Neal said that the club was a waste of time."

Peter glared, raised his eyebrows toward Gless, asking her with his eyes to be considerate.

Shauna looked away from and poured herself the coffee. She didn't sit down. She couldn't sit down. She rested her elbows on the counter behind her and took a sip. It was terrible coffee. Neal had told her that, Neal had warned her. She hadn't listened. She drank it anyway.

"What are you most worried about?" Peter was playing the part of nice, helpful, compassionate FBI Agent. Not that he wasn't all of those things. But he was rarely this soft-spoken.

"The meeting."

The meeting? Shauna paused with the rim of the coffee mug pressed against her lip. She looked at Peter, but he seemed just as stunned as she was. He repeated, "The meeting. What troubles you about that?" His gentle mask had slipped in surprise, but now it was back.

"The kidnapper calls and asks for a meeting with Caffrey in exchange for Lindsey? That seems too easy." Gless wrapped his hands around the coffee mug.

Shauna felt her heart began to race. She swallowed another gulp of coffee, then set it on the counter. "Peter?"

If he was lying, if he'd sent Neal in there alone, without the anklet...

"Yeah." Peter blinked, looked at her. He looked at Gless, and, in a voice that revealed nothing said, "Excuse me."

How could this have happened? Didn't they know how much Wilkes hated Neal? Surely Peter knew! They had sent him to his death. Of course Gless wouldn't care; Gless hated Neal, too. Neal was good at making friends, but he was just as good at making enemies. And now Gless had virtually murdered him. "Gless..."

Lindsey's dad looked at her. He didn't seem like an enemy, he looked like a dad. For a moment, Shauna was very, very jealous of Lindsey.

And then Peter, halfway across the room, snapped his fingers. "Shauna. Now."

She gave Gless one last look, hard enough to kill, then jogged to the stairs, following him to his office. Peter swung open the door and almost banged her in the head; she grabbed it and followed him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and fumbled with the buttons.

Shauna stepped in his way, so close that he had to stop to avoid running into her. "Did you know?"

"Shauna..."

"Did. You. Know." She stared him straight in the eyes. Inside, she was begging him to answer that he hadn't known, that it had all taken him by surprise. She wasn't sure she could stand it if Burke had betrayed Neal. Burke was the only person she could trust.

He met her gaze. "I didn't know."

She felt the tears rise, pulled them back, flattened her hand over her mouth. This was not the time to cry.

"I promise, Shauna. I didn't know."

She nodded. She couldn't talk. She stepped away from him and stared out the windows. The city was dark, with sparkling lights thrown across its expanse like stars. Yellow, red, green, orange. But there were no lights in alleyways. Somewhere out there was Neal. In the dark. Alone. Oh, why hadn't he let her shadow? She could be there right now, watching, tailing.

"You need to get out of there right now." Burke was on the phone. At least Neal had answered. He didn't always answer when he was on a job.

Burke's jaw clenched. "Neal, you're the ransom."

Hearing it said out loud was like a punch in the stomach. Shauna's breath caught in her throat, and she watched Burke's face. Watched as he winced, then asked, "Neal?"

She should have been there. He should have let her shadow.

"Neal?"

She should have been there.

It was several seconds before Burke pulled the phone away from his ear, flipped it shut and set it gently on the desk. He looked at Shauna as if he wasn't sure how to break the news.

She saved him the trouble. "They got him."

He nodded.

"Do you think he's dead?" Her voice trembled as she said it, but crying was no longer an option. She needed to think, and she couldn't cry and think at the same time.

"You know Wilkes better than anybody. Do you think he would have killed Neal?"

"He hates Neal." She pressed her fingernail between her teeth. "But he's not stupid. He wouldn't set this whole thing up just for revenge. He's got a use for Neal."

"Then he's alive." Peter seemed relieved. "We'll know more when Rice shows up."

Shauna swallowed. "If Rice shows up, I'm going to make her wish she'd never been born."

"No, you're not. You're going to behave, or you're going to go home." He said it absently, out of habit, not as if he really cared. Almost as if he, too, wanted to make Rice wish she'd never been born.

Burke was angry, too, Shauna realized. When Burke was angry, things happened. Usually they were things like Neal getting arrested, or Neal getting a lecture, or Neal getting in trouble. But now, for once, Burke's anger was on Neal's side. And that was a very good thing.


	4. A Normal Life S1E14

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 1 Episode 14. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place near the beginning of the show, when Neal meets with Fowler in the parking garage. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

"Are you sure he'll show up here?"

"He's been watching my anklet. He'll figure it out." But Neal was on edge, frowning, reaching up every five seconds to readjust the hat that sat just fine on top of his hair.

"Are you sure we have to do this? I don't like Fowler." Shauna's whisper felt loud as they tiptoed through the empty hall.

"Nobody likes Fowler." Neal reached up and adjusted the hat again, turning the corner. "This is for Kate."

"Isn't it always?" But Shauna shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket – Prada, because Neal wouldn't let her wear anything less – and followed him into the parking garage. Two men waited.

"Fowler," said Neal, walking up as if he did this everyday. "You brought a friend."

"So did you."

Shauna approached them slowly, her eyes swinging to the parking garage, looking for stragglers, for escape routes. Old habits died hard. Neal's habits were older, but they were much more susceptible to mistakes when Kate was involved. Damn Kate. Shauna took in the few cars that were left in the garage at this hour, at the sickly light glinting off their roofs. Nothing moved.

Then Fowler's friend approached Neal, and Shauna swung back to the appointment at hand. "What are you doing?"

But the guy was patting him down, and Neal was cooperating. "I'm not wired."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it," said Fowler dryly.

The guy moved away from Neal, toward Shauna. She scowled at Neal but lifted her arms and pushed her weight to one hip impatiently. "They're clean."

Fowler didn't seem impressed. "This better be good."

Neal said, "I'm close to the music box."

Shauna stared through the gap between her brother and the OPR agent, her arms crossed over her chest. Damn music box, damn Kate. Kate was ruining everything. Neal – and, thus Shauna – had a chance at life, a real life, working with the FBI. And it wasn't just the work. It was Peter and Elizabeth. They were...family. They were important. They were what kept Neal halfway stable, what kept Shauna feeling secure. They were life.

But no, Kate took priority. Kate always took priority.

"You're pushing it." Caffrey's voice was hard, threatening.

Shauna pulled herself back into the conversation. She could feel the tension. Neal was no longer jaunty, no longer smiling. Dead serious. "I'm gonna push it some more. I give you the box, Kate and Shauna and I never hear from you again. That's my price."

Shauna broke in, "By 'you,' do you mean Fowler? Or the FBI?"

"The FBI."

Which meant they'd never hear from Burke again.

Shauna looked away from both of them, back to the cars.

A normal life. Neal was bargaining for a normal life. Mozzie had mentioned something about joining the PTA. Was that what Neal wanted? It was what he thought he wanted. Shauna knew her brother. Prison had chafed, but that had been prison. It was supposed to chafe. But a normal life, a life where everyone expected you to be normal, to talk about normal things, to watch things like basketball and play games like chess without winning every single freaking time...a normal life would bore Neal.

Shauna didn't think her brother would last a for a week in the normal life. They'd been there, tried that, hadn't worked. Brilliance didn't mesh well with normal. Which meant that Neal found – and would always find – somewhere where his mind could work, could plan, could produce. Which usually meant doing something illegal...

There was someone in the closest car. A black one. A black Ford. How had she missed it?

Shauna's breath caught in her throat. Neal didn't notice. He was listening to Fowler, answering Fowler, pushing, pushing, pushing the limits and getting himself into more and more trouble. And there was someone in the car, someone watching.

Someone who looked remarkably like Peter Burke. And he was staring straight at her. Asking her with his gaze what she was going to do. What was she going to do?

Unlike Neal, Fowler had a gun. If she revealed Peter's presence right now, shots were going to be fired, and someone would probably die. The odds were in favor of the Caffrey siblings getting out alive, but that meant one of the suits was getting killed. And since Peter was much more apt to try talking it out first...he was probably going to be the dead one.

Or she could tell Neal later.

She decided to tell Neal later. Or that's what she told herself, as Fowler walked away with a parting shot. "You know I don't give a damn what you do, Caffrey. Just don't make it my problem."

Neal wheeled, turned to Shauna. "Come on."

She should tell him, tell him now. Tell him that Peter was there, that he knew.

And then what?

Then Neal would get in trouble right here, right now, instead of later. And later might be good, might be better, because there were so many unknowns in the equation, and maybe Burke was at this moment figuring out what they were. Besides, she didn't want a confrontation if she could help it.

That's what she told herself. But it wasn't the truth.

If Neal knew that Burke knew about the meeting with Fowler, Neal would change the plan. Which would mean that Neal wouldn't get caught. And Shauna wanted Neal to get caught. That was the truth.

Because getting caught meant staying in New York, with the FBI, who gave Neal something to do. With the Burkes, who gave him a conscience. With the closest thing to a normal life the Caffrey siblings would ever hope of having.


	5. My Brother's Keeper S2E1

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 1. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It doesn't have a definite time-frame, but I we can say it takes place after the S2E1 for clarity's sake. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

"Thanks for coming."

"No problem." Shauna sat down on the bench, scoping out the surroundings. "Why couldn't we meet at the office?"

"Thought you might be more comfortable here." Peter lowered his newspaper.

"In the open? Not really, no." She scanned as much as she could of the perimeter without turning around and looking suspicious. "Way too visible."

"This is where your friend, the lawyer, Havershem..."

"Mozzie?"

"_Havershem_," repeated Peter, with emphasis, "wanted to meet me."

Shauna surveyed her surroundings again. It had plenty of escape routes. Mozzie was a fan of escape routes. And there were no cameras. Again, Mozzie was a fan. "Well, there are plenty of people around, which means you can't pull anything."

"Why am I the one always expected to pull something? I don't have a history of pulling anything." Peter tipped his head back to the sky. "You're always expecting me to con you. That's not me. That's Neal."

"Neal's never lied to Mozzie. Or to me." True, as far as Shauna knew. Which could just mean that Neal was just proving himself an exceptional liar, yet again. You couldn't quite trust Neal, not even when you were his sister.

But you could never trust a suit, not even when he was your friend. Shauna replayed the last few seconds in her mind. "You met with Mozzie?"

"Right here on this bench. Actually, he was on that bench, and I was on this bench. I don't think we fooled anybody." Peter rolled his eyes.

"You met with _Mozzie_? How'd you swing that?" Mozzie meeting with a suit was in the same collection as flying pigs and blue moons and hell freezing over.

"Called him."

"You have his number?"

"Got it from Neal."

Shauna narrowed her eyes and waited.

Peter sighed. "Fine. I got it from Neal's phone. He's in FBI custody, Shauna. His rights are few and far between. It's not something I'd need a warrant for."

"And you wonder why we expect you to pull something." She crossed her arms over her chest and made a mental note to tell Neal to clear his address book. Not that he had many numbers. She and Mozzie had always been on speed dial, and Peter had been recently added, but every other number that Neal would ever need was in his head. He didn't leave a paper trail. He didn't have to. "So why did you meet with Mozzie?"

"Wanted to ask him about Neal."

"You're investigating Neal?"

"It's not like that, Shauna. Calm down."

She crossed her arms over her chest and considered calming down. She liked Burke, she really did. But Burke was stealing Neal's phone. To call Mozzie. Who had met with him. Here, on this bench. "What do you want to know about Neal?"

"I'm worried about him."

She let the statement hang in the air, turned it over in her head, inspected it. Peter was worried. Peter was worried, because Peter was Neal's friend. He'd proved it, over and over and over again. And if he was stealing information off of people's phones, he had a good reason for it: he was worried. Shauna pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the corner of the bench. "You're not the only one."

"So he's not okay."

Shauna shrugged. "He's functioning. Kate was like, his life."

"I've noticed." Peter's voice was dry.

"So the explosion messed him up. Don't you think you'd be freaking out if something like that happened to Elizabeth?"

"So he's freaking out?"

Shauna pressed her palms against her eyes, ran her fingers up through her hair. She should have known better than to let an FBI Agent ask her questions. They knew how to interrogate. "I didn't say that."

"But it's true."

"But I didn't say it." She paused. "He's lost a lot of people in his life, Burke. It's why he doesn't trust them."

"_They_ don't trust _him_." He raised his eyebrows.

"Because he doesn't let them. When you live a lie, no one knows enough about you to be your friend."

"Sounds about right," said Peter after a moment. He stared straight ahead, at the fountain. "But no one can live a lie forever, Shauna. Right now, Neal's trying to convince me that he's fine, that life is good, that he's a model citizen and has absolutely no plans to do anything stupid."

Shauna pressed her lips together, kept her face unreadable. If going after the music box was stupid—and she was sure Burke would think it was—Neal definitely had plans. And he was as much a model citizen as he was trustworthy.

When Peter didn't get an answer, he said gently, "I'm worried about what's going to happen when that facade blows up in his face. Because it will, Shauna. You know it will."

"I know." Her voice was soft. Oh, she knew. It had happened before. It would happen again.

"Just don't let him do anything stupid."

"So now I'm my brother's keeper?" She turned on Burke, her hands clenched into fists, then caught herself and pulled back. "I can't not let him do anything! And if I tried—and I would fail—he'd never trust me again. I can't give that up, not even for you."

"Not for me, for him."

"Not even for him." It sounded selfish to say it, that she wanted Neal's truths more than she wanted him safe. But it was true. She stood up. "I'm sorry."

Peter laid the newspaper aside and stood up beside her. "Then at least keep me updated. Give me a chance to stop him."

Everything in her screamed that she should turn him down. Tell him no and walk away. If she betrayed Neal's plans to Burke, Neal would never trust her again. But then, Neal might be in prison, or even dead, and it wouldn't matter if he trusted her or not. She took a deep breath. "I'll give you a chance."

"Thanks, Shauna."

"Don't mention it." She started walking away, her back to Peter. Furious with herself, furious with the FBI, most furious of all with Neal.

"It will turn out all right."

She stopped, turned on her heel. "I said don't mention it. Ever."

He nodded once to show that he understood.

And Shauna walked away, feeling like she should have thirty pieces of silver in her pocket.


	6. Without Cheating S2E2

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 2. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place in the middle of the episode, after Neal confronts Peter about the pictures of him and Diana doing after-hours work. There is a similar scene in the show with just Neal and Mozzie, and I suppose this episode could be considered its replacement. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

"That's cheating." Shauna stared at the board before her.

"By your rules, maybe. But I'm playing by rules that have been place since the Battle of Hastings. That was a time when pawns could move backwards." Mozzie leaned back from the chess board, satisfied.

"It was not."

"Don't believe me? Ask Neal. Remember the Lost Book of Rules?"

Shauna moved her own pawn forward, the way it was supposed to go. "The fact that he _forged_ it should tell you something about the authenticity of the rules inside it."

"Don't tell Neal you're doubting the authenticity of his masterpiece. He got a quarter of a million for that." Mozzie moved a piece.

"I know. I delivered it." Shauna heard Neal's steps in the hall, and she tipped over Mozzie's queen by moving her bishop to the side. "Check-mate."

"Bishops can't move laterally," Mozzie protested.

She shrugged. "Lost Book of Rules."

The key jiggled in the lock, and Neal stepped in. His hair was tangled out-of-place, and he didn't turn around once he shut the door.

Shauna forgot the chess game. "What's wrong?"

"Peter's lying to me."

The blood drained from her face, but she caught Mozzie's eye and forced a casual tone. "Well, you lie to everyone else. Does it bother you that much?"

"You sound just like him." Neal stepped over to the chess game, his frustration evident from the way his shoes pounded the floor. He glanced at the pieces distractedly. "Bishops can't move laterally."

"I tried to tell her," said Mozzie, seizing the diversion. "Your sister cheats."

"By your rules, maybe. But I'm playing by the Lost Book of Rules. Remember them?" Shauna held her breath, hoping that her brother could be distracted the way he was distracting the entire city of New York with his rumors about the new stadium.

Neal made a noncommittal sound in his throat. "I never lied to Peter."

"Of course you did," said Mozzie cheerfully. "He's a suit. You're...you."

"I never lied to him. Not really."

Shauna caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes before he turned away. She looked at Mozzie, but he shrugged helplessly. "Well, what do you think he's lying about?"

"I don't _think_ he's lying, I _know_ he is!" Neal turned back to her almost viciously, his fingers accidentally knocking over half the chess game.

Mozzie looked at the spilled pieces morosely. "There goes that."

"You were cheating anyway," Shauna told him. She stood up and touched Neal's arm, tightening her grip when he tried to pull away. "Neal, you're overreacting. You're right. You can trust Peter. He wouldn't lie to you."

"I am not overreacting. I saw the pictures! Diana was at his house last night."

Shauna let go and looked hopelessly at Mozzie. She'd offered Peter her help. She hadn't offered to lie for him. "How'd you get pictures?"

"Jennings. He thinks Peter's having an affair."

"With Diana?" Shauna raised her eyebrows. "Did you tell him he was wrong?"

"No, we're using it to our advantage." Neal pulled away, and she let his blazer slide through her fingers.

"So what's the big deal?" Mozzie rolled one of the chess pieces between his fingers. "Diana was at Peter's house. How does that mean he's lying?"

"Unless," said Shauna, "he really _is_ having an affair."

Neal cocked an eyebrow. "Really? This is Peter we're talking about."

"A paragon of integrity and morality," intoned Mozzie.

"Which is why he'd never lie to you." Shauna winced, hoping she didn't sound too forceful. "Besides, I don't see anything wrong with him working after-hours with Diana if Elizabeth doesn't mind."

"He told me he was going to be at a stake-out." And there was bitterness in his tone.

Shauna sighed. Peter was digging a hole she didn't think she could pull him out of. "What did he say when you asked him about it?"

"Stake-out got canceled."

"That does happen," interrupted Mozzie. "Remember the job on 24th Street? I canceled that one. The feds still believe OPR didn't want them looking into it."

"And we made off with twenty thousand in cash," finished Shauna. "It happens, Neal. Stake-outs get canceled."

Neal looked at them both but leveled his gaze at Mozzie. "Since when do you trust a suit instead of me?"

"I'm insulted!" Mozzie swallowed, but he was a professional liar, and he didn't even glance at Shauna. "I just think you're taking this too far."

"Besides, for a suit, Peter's pretty nice," Shauan inserted, trying to save both herself and Mozzie and getting very angry with Peter for putting them in this position. "He's your friend! He wouldn't lie to you. _I_ trust him!"

"You're sixteen," Neal shot back.

She clenched her jaw, crossed her arms over her chest. "Now _I'm_ insulted."

Neal stared at them both and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it even further. Then he shook his head and stepped toward the alcove that doubled as a bedroom, ignoring them both. Shauna turned back to Mozzie, who was loosening his collar. "This sucks."

"I don't understand why Peter just can't tell the kid what he's doing," said Mozzie under his breath, setting up the chess pieces again.

Shauna leaned close and placed her own pieces on the board. "If Peter comes clean now, it will all blow up in his face. Neal's already freaking out..."

"Who's freaking out?" Free of his blazer, Neal had returned to the living room. His movements were stiff. Angry.

"You," said Mozzie, without looking up.

"Oh, I'm fine." For once, Neal's tone was unconvincing. His eyes wandered the room as if searching for something to take his mind off things. He pulled a book from the antique-studded bookshelf and thumbed through it, disinterested.

Shauna forced herself to look back at the board to where Mozzie was moving a pawn forward. Without cheating.

There was the thump of the book being returned to the shelf, and then a sudden crash and shatter. Shauna jumped out of her chair, but Mozzie didn't even flinch. "That vase was authentic sixteenth century," he said warningly. "Once belonged to _Shakespeare_."

"I'll make another one," said Neal.

Shauna sucked in a breath through her teeth as she sat back down. "Peter's going to regret this."


	7. Not In Jail Yet S2E3

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 3. [SPOILERS BEGIN NOW] It takes place near the beginning of the episode, when Peter shows Neal the criminology course syllabus. {Sorry it's short. I had trouble figuring out where Shauna would be in this story.} If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

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"You already have a copy at home," said Shauna, sitting with her back to Neal's desk in the FBI office and watching him cut out his precious article. "Why do you need another one?"

"Copycatted," said Neal, as if he hadn't even heard her question. "I was _copycatted._"

"_We_ were copycatted," said Shauna. "I seem to remember this being a multi-person job."

"But it was my _idea_," said Neal.

Shauna rolled her eyes and tipped her head back against the coolness of the desk. She was more than used to this. "Whatever."

"What was your idea?"

Her eyes snapped open. Peter was coming toward them, a folder in his hand. Shauna flicked her gaze up to Neal, who hadn't stopped grinning. "Oh, the bonds you put me in jail for."

"Sure," said Peter, his mouth pressed into a line.

"They _were_ his idea," supplied Shauna.

"Along with a host of other things he'll never admit to." Peter shoved the folder in Neal's face. "Look at this."

Neal sighed and flipped it open. "A college syllabus?"

"Week four." Peter looked away from both Neal and Shuana, shaking his head as if he didn't particularly want to hear Neal's response.

There was a brief silence from Neal, and Shauna looked up to catch his face widening into an ridiculous smile. "I'm in a syllabus!"

"Give me that." Shauna snatched it, perused it. But Neal was right. He was featured in a criminology course. "Where am I?"

"And why would you expect to be studied alongside the likes of Neal Caffrey?" Peter stared down at her, eyebrow cocked with warning.

It was hard to remember that nobody had pinned anything on her yet. "I wouldn't," she covered, reading the rest of Neal's description. "It's just that we're such good friends is all."

Neal grabbed the paper back, oblivious to the fact that Shauna had almost turned herself in. "They study me for an entire week!"

"And forget about you by the end of the semester," said Peter, pinching the folder between his fingers. "Give me that."

"Oh, no, I'm keeping this as a souvenir." Neal jerked the folder back and read, "Technological virtuoso..."

"Since when are _you_ the technological virtuoso?" questioned Shauna.

"Since I got arrested and didn't turn in any accomplices," he answered.

"That's so unfair." She surveyed the list of crimes that the class was studying. "They're giving you full credit for masterminding the Carter heist. You're smart, okay, but you're not that smart."

"You were behind the Carter heist?" Peter pulled the folder from Neal's hands.

Neal folded his hands behind his head. "Uh-uh, nope, not that. Wasn't even in town when that happened."

"You didn't have to be," said Peter, frowning and flipping through the pages. "You only needed one person in town—to hack the security system from the inside."

"Well, I'm the only guy I know who could have done that," said Neal, still smug.

"Maybe the only guy. But what about a girl?" Peter glanced down at Shauna and snapped the folder shut. "You want to tell me you weren't in town then, Shauna?"

"I..." Shauna considered her options. "I don't want to tell you anything."

"Smart. Apparently smarter than I thought." Peter didn't look thrilled to be discovering this.

She shrugged. "But not smart enough to make it into the syllabus."

"Think of it this way." Peter glared briefly at Neal. "He gets fame and a tracking anklet. You remain anonymous, but—"

"But you don't have to put up with _him_ for four more years." Neal jerked his thumb at Peter. "It's a good thing, really."

Shauna shook her head. "You just like being called a virtuoso."

"Hey, if I ever get to meet this class, I'll make sure they know I didn't do it alone."

"Why would you meet the class?" Peter's eyes were narrowed.

Neal just smiled.

"He thinks they're his fan club," Shauna told Peter.

"Yes, and that's a _problem_." Peter shook the folder over the desk. "This is your _case_, Neal. These are the kids that are copycatting you."

"Imitation," said Neal, basking in his fame. "It feels good."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Peter told him, as close to angry as Shauna had ever seen him. "These kids are going to jail because they chose you as a role model."

"It's their fault, not mine, if they get arrested," said Neal. "_If_ they get arrested. I've been Shauna's role model for years, and she not in jail."

"Yet," said Peter. "She not in jail _yet_."


	8. I Bet She Slaps Him S2E3

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 3. [BEGIN SPOILERS] It takes place in the middle of the episode, when Neal stages a fight with Alex to convince the criminology students to take on a specific robbery. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

Major thanks to Post U Later for inspiring this one-shot. I knew when I saw the episode that I wanted to use this scene for the fanfic, but I couldn't figure out how to make it work. It was Post U Later's idea to have Shauna bet, and also that maybe this wasn't the first time that Neal and Alex had staged an argument. :)

This is the second episode related to "Copycat Caffrey".

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Shauna could almost imagine she was normal. Maybe a little too young for most people to be in college, but she wasn't most people. Both she and Neal had been smart enough to graduate high school a couple years early, even if Neal had never graduated, and Shauna had never even started. And now Shauna was feeling normal, sitting on a college campus with a group of criminology students that thought they were a lot smarter than they actually were.

Case in point: Manny's tunneling idea.

Veronica was laughing and Neal was making a face, playing along, even though Alex was getting closer and closer and closer. Shauna had to force herself to pull her eyes away, to engage in the conversation and pretend like she hadn't noticed Alex at all. Neal wasn't having any trouble with the facade; he never did. "Not really big on shovels, Manny."

To which Veronica raised her eyebrows victoriously, because she'd known all along that tunnels were a stupid idea. Shauna shook her head. The girl was smart. But she wasn't humble enough to pull off something big. You could only be as cocky as Neal is if you were, well...Neal.

"Would you excuse me?" Neal pushed back his chair.

Shauna tried to hide a smile as she glanced up to see Alex walking dramatically up the steps. As talented a fence as she was, Alex was skittish. She didn't share Neal's enjoyment of audiences. But then, she had a lot more to lose if she were caught. People all over the world counted on Alex to keep them anonymous.

"Who is that?" whispered Manny.

"Is that his girlfriend?" Veronica elbowed Shauna.

"She's, um, yeah, um sure. She's his girlfriend." Shauna scowled at her, not appreciating the elbow. "It's complicated."

"I think that she's more business partner than romantic interest," said Professor Oswald. He watched Neal and Alex with narrowed eyes.

"Then he's still single," said Veronica, with just a touch more satisfaction than Shauna cared to hear. She considered lying and telling Veronica that Neal and Alex were together, but she didn't have time. The performance had begun.

"Everything is all set, okay? You can't back out now!" Alex's voice carried to the table. Shauna pressed her mouth into a straight line to avoid looking impressed. Alex was risking a lot by coming, by being noticed. And risking it all on Neal, who was never the most trustworthy guy in the room.

But maybe the most trustworthy guy in Alex's life.

"Okay, look, keep your voice down." Neal pressed his palms toward the ground, but his voice was still louder than it would have been if this had been for real. "He saw me. It's over."

"You can't walk away! I already have a buyer!" Alex did not keep her voice down.

Justin, the smartest guy at the table, raised his eyebrows. "A fence?"

"Do you know her?" asked Veronica.

Shauna bit her lip, hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Is she a fence?" asked Justin again.

"A good one?" asked Manny.

And Shauna nodded again. "She's ticked. Neal called her this morning..."

They waited, baited by the silence. Shauna let them wait. She could get used to this.

"And..." said the professor.

"I shouldn't discuss it," said Shauna. Her eyes flicked back to Neal's performance, and she felt a rush of pride.

"Get someone else to make the grab, or tell your buyer to back off!" Neal had a huge emotional range in real life, but he was rarely truly angry. Depressed and betrayed? Frequently. But angry? Not often.

Now he looked angry.

Alex looked even angrier. "So I'm out a ton of money because you made a stupid mistake and got spotted?"

"I bet she slaps him," said Shauna. She'd seen this before. Sometimes Alex slapped him, sometimes she didn't. It had nothing to do with the charade, with the reason they were pretending in the first place. It had everything to do with Alex: how much Alex liked Neal that day, and how frustrated Alex was that Neal didn't like her back. Back when Neal had started going out with Kate...there had been a lot of slapping.

Shauna was still fairly sure that Neal had no idea why.

"I'll take that bet," said Justin. "But not two hundred."

"Learned your lesson?" Shauna pulled a bill from her pocket. "Twenty then."

Justin threw his own twenty on the table.

"You know," Alex raised her voice again, ready to leave, her words infused with fury, "thanks for nothing!"

Neal leaned toward Alex, said something too softly for the table's occupants to hear. Alex responded in kind and didn't wait for an answer. She slapped him.

"That hurt," said Manny, wincing.

"Win," said Shauna, pulling both bills toward her. Forty dollars was nothing, but the thrill of beating Justin was worth it. He was getting on her nerves.

"Come on!" said Justin. But he didn't seem too upset. Of course he didn't. He could sense the upcoming project. And he knew it would be worthwhile if Neal Caffrey was involved.

"Sorry about that, you guys," said Neal, returning. He rubbed his face and looked horribly disconcerted. "That was...a little awkward."

Professor Oswald raised his eyebrows, and Shauna could see the curiosity rippling over his skin. He was going to have to hide his intentions better than that if he really wanted to enter the crime world. "Lover's quarrel?"

"Oh, we have a history, you know." Neal met Shauna's eyes for the briefest of seconds—he was thrilled, despite the way his face must be stinging. "We work well together."

"Sounded like a certain job went awry," said the professor. Still too eager. There were better ways to wheedle information out of someone, especially someone like Neal, who knew every trick in the book.

"Nah." Neal clasped his hands behind his head and sat back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. "I'm reformed, remember."

And Shauna laughed. Laughing hadn't been part of the plan, but it made everyone lean in closer. They knew who she was. They knew that she knew just what Neal was up to...because he was definitely up to something.

"What's the haul?" asked Manny.

"Krugerrands," said Neal, basking in their attention. "Gold."


	9. Red Handed S2E4

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 4. [BEGIN SPOILERS] It takes place near the beginning of the episode, while Neal and Mozzie are about to break into the cigar shop, and after Peter realizes that Neal has something up his sleeve. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

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Shauna's phone rang while she was reading the _Times_. Peter. Not good. "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Home." She waited for him to follow-up, then added, "I swear. I'm at June's house. Neal's house. Whatever. _I'm_ here."

"And Neal isn't."

"That's not what I said." But it was true. Neal was out with Mozzie, breaking into Gina's apartment, if Shauna's suspicions were correct, and they usually were.

"I'm in the area," Burke said after a pause. "I'm picking you up."

Chills ran down Shauna's arms. "Picking me up, like, let's-go-for-a-Sunday-drive picking me up? Or picking me up, like, you're-under-arrest."

"Picking you up, like, Neal's-in-trouble-and-I-needed-you-five-minutes-ago picking you up," said Peter. "So far, you're not under arrest."

"I'll be on the front steps." She hung up the phone, grabbed her cardigan, and stampeded down the stairs to the main floor.

June saw her and smiled up from the book she was reading. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh, you know."

"Neal?"

"Who else?" Shauna stepped outside and realized she hadn't needed the cardigan. The weather was warm enough for short sleeves. She pitied Burke and Neal in their suits, though Neal would be wearing a tie even in a hundred degrees.

Burke pulled up four seconds after Shauna sat down; she jumped up and hurried to the car, opening the passenger door. "You promise I'm not in trouble?"

"Should you be? Get in."

She got in. She liked Peter's car, but Neal liked it more. Unfortunately for Neal, things like Peter's car were distinctly off-limits. "What's wrong?"

"Has Neal mentioned a Gina DeStefano to you?"

"No..." Not Neal, not exactly. Mozzie was the one mentioning Gina every other minute.

"But you've heard the name before."

"Maybe." It was a balancing act of information. How much would get Neal in trouble? Was he in trouble? FBI trouble? Or trouble the FBI could save him from? How confidential was this information?

"Shauna..." There was warning in Peter's voice, but he didn't look at her as he said it; he was too busy running a red light.

"Fine. She's Mozzie's crush. Did you just run...?"

"Yes, I did, and I'll run another one, because your brother's got himself in deep with Navarro and we're running out of time. Heard of Navarro?" Burke ran yet another red light.

Shauna dug her fingernails into the seat, worried about the leather but more worried about her continued existence on the planet. "No, I haven't. Should I?"

"Mob."

"Neal's in deep with the _mob_? What does that have to do with Gina?"

"Gina's in deep. You're kindhearted brother is being good enough to help." Peter's jaw clenched. "Did he stop and think about this first? No. Did he ask me? No. Did he consider the fact that he might be private-investigating himself into an early grave? No, and no, and no."

After a pause, Shauna tried to give him a sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, he didn't tell me, either."

"Didn't want you in danger?"

"Didn't think it was dangerous, probably. If it were dangerous, he would have told me. He would have needed my help..." she trailed off, wondering if that was too much information to give a suit. "Where are we going?"

"Cigar shop called Sal's. Heard of it?"

"Nope. Why there?"

"That's where Neal is."

"Tracking anklet strikes again." There were times when Shauna felt sorry for Neal, caged in a two-mile radius of Manhattan when he was used to having the world at his fingertips. But there were definitely times when it came in handy.

Burke braked to a stop in the fire emergency lane in front of Sal's. "You coming?"

She got out of the car and hurried to him. Diana and Jones bailed out of a second car, and Shauna let them go first. What had Neal gotten himself into?

Peter pushed the door open without knocking—as far as Shauna knew, Neal's door was the only one that had ever merited the courtesy of Peter knocking. "Everything all right in here?"

Shauna stepped inside. For a moment, she was taken aback by the smell. She'd never smoked a cigar—after all, she was only sixteen, and smoking was _illegal_—but Neal had, when the occasion called for it. It smelled calm and woody, like home after a long day's work. She stepped forward.

"We're closed for business." The guy that stepped toward her had too many muscles for his suit. Shauna took a step back, right into Burke, who put his hand on her shoulder and turned her halfway around so that she was staring through a glass door.

Neal—Neal!—stared back, obviously in some sort of trouble. How did he get in there?

"Special Agent Burke, FBI." Peter was definitely amused by Neal's undignified presence, and he was unfazed by the number of guns, big guns, in the room. He was good, Caffrey-good, when it came to acting casual.

Shauna relaxed her shoulders, tipped her head from side-to-side. Act casual. She moved away from Burke's hand.

"Got a report someone broke in here." Peter looked everywhere but at Neal, so Shauna did, too. She wasn't sure how Peter planned to explain her presence to Navarro, and the best thing to do now was act like she belonged with the FBI. Not exactly the easiest thing to do.

"Thought I'd do my duty and stop a crime in progress." Burke went on. Shauna forced herself not to roll her eyes. As if the FBI would be called in for a robbery! "But I see, you men are already on that."

Shauna caught Neal's eyes again. He looked miserable. Of course he did. He was stuck between the mob and the FBI. Not the best place to find yourself. "What were you doing?" she mouthed.

He shrugged.

Peter gestured with two fingers, and Neal looked even more frustrated as he opened the door and stepped out. His hair was out-of-place, and he was still flushed with the adrenaline of an escape. He met Shauna's eyes as if wondering why she was there, then looked off to the side in an attempt to become invisible.

She left Burke and stood beside her brother. "You look like a kid caught stealing cookies."

"Red-handed," he said. "Same thing."

"What on earth were you doing?" She ignored Burke's tense pleasantries with Navarro. If she was going to get the true story, she'd have to get it now, before Burke was the interrogator. "Why are you _here_?"

"Gina was kidnapped, and her clue led us here. Be patient. I'll tell you everything when we get back to the Bureau." He rested his hand on her head.

"So you will tell Peter?"

"Of course. When have I ever kept secrets from him?" He quirked a smile, but it vanished as Burke finished his interview and gestured to the door. Diana took Neal's arm on the way out, and Shauna was surprised that he didn't shake her off.

Outside, Shauna could breathe. Sure, it was Manhattan air, which was more pollution than oxygen, but the comfortable cigar flavor of Sal's had lost its peace. Peter stomped out. "Where's the little guy?"

"Mozzie?" The word slipped out of Shauna's lips before she could stop it. Neal glared.

"Yeah, Mozzie." said Burke, and there was no arguing with his tone. "Where is he?"

There really wasn't any choice for Neal now. "Mozz! Come on out."

Mozzie, after a long glance in both directions, appeared from the side of the building. He noticed Shauna and frowned, but then he was all business. "Suit, I must say, your timing is impeccable."

There would be no charming Burke today. "You three can fill me in from the beginning back at the Bureau."

"Nice, Neal," said Shauna, crossing her arms over her chest and watching Burke walk back to the car. "Real nice."

"Not now, Shauna."

"He wants me to go to the Bureau?" Mozzie was petrified.

"Yeah, Mozz!" Neal turned on his friend, exasperated. "If you want the FBI's help, you gotta go to the Bureau."

"Not that Neal would ever be caught dead suggesting that someone go to the Bureau for help," said Shauna coldly. "Not the Neal Caffrey I know."

"I said not now, Shauna." Neal's voice was like ice. He was always like this when he got caught. It didn't matter if being caught saved his life, he was still caught, and caught was bad. He hated it, and he would be intolerable for days. "Just do it for Gina," he told Mozzie.

"You know what they do to guys like me at the Bureau?" Mozzie's feet were still rooted in one spot. Beads of sweat were forming on his skin, and Shauna was pretty sure they weren't brought on by the warm weather.

"I do, Mozz!" Neal pulled up the leg of his slacks, gestured to the offending tracking anklet that had resulted in his capture, then turned on his heel in a manner worthy of Peter Burke. "I do."

"I don't have all day," called Burke.

"Come on, Mozzie." Shauna grabbed his elbow and tugged him forward. She was an inch taller than he was, but he didn't budge. "Peter won't arrest you without plenty of notice, I promise."

"You promise? How can you promise that?"

Neal stopped and turned back around. He took Mozzie's other elbow, pulling him along and letting his shoes scuff on the sidewalk. He raised his voice so that Peter, waiting at the car, could hear. "Because arresting you would offend me. And the last thing he needs is an offended Neal Caffrey."

They stopped by the open door. Neal pulled himself up to his full height and looked Burke in the eye. "Isn't that right, Peter?"

"Get. In. The. Car."

They got in the car.


	10. Good Job S2E5

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 5. [BEGIN SPOILERS] Takes place at the very end of the episode, while Neal and Sara are at Sara's house and Peter discovers that the assassin is loose and after Sara. I created a second assassin to be after Neal, though, and I also decided that Neal stole Peter's car...not just a random one. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

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"I'm going to be late. I'm driving Sara home." Neal's voice crackled in the phone.

Shauna pressed her phone to her ear and looked at Mozzie, who reclined on the couch. "You're _driving_?"

Mozzie opened his eyes, raised his half-filled wine glass in a salute. "I tried to tell him."

"You don't drive, Neal," said Shauna. Which wasn't quite true. He did drive. He just didn't drive _well_.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Famous last words."

"Not for me." His voice grew muffled, and she could imagine him cupping his hand over the phone. "I've got to get that package, Shauna."

"She has a gun..."

"I'm not stupid." The muffling went away, and Shauna could hear Sara's voice in the background. "I'll talk to you later, sis."

"Sis?" But he had already hung up.

Shauna looked at Mozzie. "This better not have been your idea."

"I tried to talk him out of it," said Mozzie. He sat up. "It's not my fault he isn't exactly prone to listening."

"Hope he gets her to her house in one piece," said Shauna. She stared at the wine in Mozzie's hand. "How many of those have you had?"

He shrugged. "Enough to merit Neal's displeasure when he returns, I'm sure."

Shauna's phone vibrated in her pocket, preventing her from a snappy reply. Peter? "Hello?"

"Where's Neal?"

"Um, he..." He stole your car to take Sara Ellis home so that he could steal a package—a package addressed to her from the FAA—containing a copy of the cockpit recordings of the plane that exploded and killed Kate? No. Wrong answer. "He's, um..."

"Is he there? Can I talk to him?"

"No, he's not here. Can't you check his anklet?"

"I'll call them next. Listen to me, Shauna. You knew how we told Halbridge that Sara wasn't dead, that she was working with Neal?"

"Yeah..."

"We just arrested Halbridge, but Black isn't here. Went to finish the job, Nico said."

"Sucks to be Sara," was what slipped out of Shauna's mouth. She winced. Not exactly what she'd meant to say, not with Peter on the other end of the line.

Peter paused, but he didn't get angry. "We think there's another assassin."

It was amazing how quickly Shauna could switch to defense mode. Door? Locked. French doors? Swinging open to let the breeze indoors. Shauna crossed the room, slammed them shut, locked them all. Anyone on the roof? No.

"I'm safe," said Shauna. "I'm in Neal's apartment. Everything's locked."

"But Neal's not with you? Damn it, I've got to call for his GPS location."

"You might find him with Sara," said Shauna, ignoring Mozzie's raised eyebrows. The time for secrets was over. "Might. Maybe, possibly..."

"Probably," said Peter dryly.

"Probably," she admitted. "Most likely."

"Hopefully I don't catch him doing something illegal."

"Illegal? No. Not Neal. Of course not." Shauna kept turning in a tight circle, scanning the three-sixty of the room. Nothing. No one. "Though if you call him and tell him you're coming, he'd probably appreciate it."

"I'm sure he would." Someone spoke in the background, and there was a short silence. Then, "I have to go. I'll be over there as soon as I find Sara—and Neal. I want you back at the office until we find the other guy. Neal's apartment is a target."

"Understood. I'll be ready." She hung up the phone and looked at Mozzie, who was sitting up, on alert. "There are two assassins. And Neal's on the hit list."

"Great." Mozzie had already watched her lock all the doors, but now he went through the same motions. "And how do you plan on defending yourself?"

"I figured we'd just tell the guy that Neal wasn't here."

"You're setting yourself up to be a hostage," said Mozzie.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Shauna pressed herself to the door, listening for the creak of the steps. Her heart was beating out of her chest. "Peter will be here soon. We've just got to delay the guy."

"You're not the charmer you're brother is," said Mozzie.

"I have my moments." She squeezed her eyes shut. Was she imagining it? No. Someone was coming up the stairs. "I wish I had a gun."

"See, this is why Neal's charm factor is higher. Ever hear him say he wishes he had a gun?"

"No, I hear him say that his flight was way too long." She paused. "Someone's coming."

"I hope you have a plan."

"How come it has to be me? Why don't you have a plan?" All the same, she backed away from the door. Swiped her hand across the countertop. One of the wine bottles fell, crashed into a lake of glass shards and wine.

"Shauna!" Mozzie was horrorstruck. "That cost four hundred dollars!"

"Neal's going to kill me," said Shauna. She knelt down, staining the knees of her khakis in the wine. "I can't believe that. I'm so clumsy."

Someone knocked at the door.

They froze. Shauna said, "Can you get the door, Mozz? I'm...a bit busy."

Mozzie took the long way to the door, unlocked it from the side, turned the handle. Shauna pressed her face to her knees, hoping she was low enough.

Three shots zipped through the door, sailed through the room. Two of them hit the cabinets, and the third put a whole in the opposite wall. The door swung open. Shauna looked up but didn't get up, her hands lifted. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on?"

Mozzie, too, had his hands in the air. "Whatever it was, we didn't do it."

The assassin looked from Mozzie to Shauna. He was tall and well-built, with blond hair. "Where's the other guy?"

"Neal? He's out," said Mozzie. "Not here right now. Should be here in, say, half an hour, if you want to wait."

The assassin took a step closer to Shauna, the gun extended in his hand. "Judging from those blue eyes, I'm going to guess that you're related to him. Are you?"

She shrugged.

"He has a gun, Shauna. You should answer," said Mozzie.

"I'm his sister."

"Stand up."

Shauna stood, slipped in the wine, fell to one knee, her palms smacking the floor, swore because of the glass that had punctured her skin, and stood up again, wincing, her hands in fists. "I swear he'll be here in half an hour. Or you could go find him. I can tell you where he is."

"So quick to betray him?" The assassin smirked.

"No honor among thieves," said Shauna.

The assassin walked around her, his boots crunching on the former wine bottle. He kept the gun trained on her face. "I have a better idea. You walk out of here with me, and we wait somewhere else for Neal. I'm sure he'll show up."

"Doubt it," said Shauna. "I'm his sister, not his girlfriend."

"I'd like to give it a try." He put the muzzle of his gun against the back of her head. "Walk."

"You probably don't want to do that," said Mozzie, who had finally found his voice. "The Caffreys have FBI connections."

The assassin shrugged. "Walk."

"You don't want the feds after you, do you?"

"Already are." The gun dug into Shauna's skull. "Walk."

She walked. Her wine-soaked shoes kept slipping on the floor. She was almost to the door when she slipped for real, falling faster than the assassin's arm could move, reaching up with one arm like a drunken figure skater. Her palm slammed into the assassin's face. The gun went off, and she crashed to the floor, her ears ringing.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" The gun was still in his hand, but he wasn't looking at Shauna or Mozzie anymore. He was clawing at his eye with his free hand. "What the hell did you do?"

Shauna reached out and pulled the gun out of his hand easily, stood up, and trained it on him. Waiting. Waiting for him to want it back, or for Peter to arrive. She was hoping for the latter.

"There's a hole in the ceiling," said Mozzie woefully.

"I'll fix it," said Shauna. She had both hands wrapped around the gun, but her palms—and her knee—were stinging, dripping blood to the floor. She gritted her teeth and stared at the assassin. Blood was running down his face.

Footsteps stampeded up the stairs. "Stand down! FBI!"

The assassin bellowed, reached out for his gun. Shauna took a step back, right into Peter Burke, who gently shoved her aside with his own gun extended. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

And the assassin stopped, lifted one hand while pressing the other to his face. Peter frowned. "What happened?"

"He got glass in his eye," said Shauna. She felt suddenly exhausted, and her knee was throbbing.

"Shauna!" Neal reached out to wrap her in a hug.

She reached out, but the gun was still in her hands, and her palms were bleeding. "I'll stain your shirt."

He held her at arms length then, his eyes carefully staying away from the gun. "What happened?"

"I kinda, maybe, possibly broke a bottle of four-hundred dollar wine."

"Four hundred dollars?" gasped Peter, swinging to look at Neal with new eyes. "Where did you—never mind, I don't want to know."

"She scooped up the glass in her hand when she pretended to fall," said Mozzie, pride running all through his voice. "And then she slapped it in his face. I came up with that idea. Remember Neal?"

Neal nodded.

"I hurt my knee, too," said Shauna, ignoring them both. "I think I'm going to need stitches."

As federal agents swarmed the assassin, Peter turned to Shauna. He took the gun from her gently, handed it to another agent. "Let me see your hands."

She held them out for his inspection. "Yep, I think stitches are in order. But worth it. Quick thinking, Shauna. Good job."

Good job. Shauna stared up at Peter. The words felt strange, like they weren't meant for her. "Really?" Her voice came out squeaky small.

"Really." He glanced at Neal. "Contrary to public opinion, I'm not stingy when it comes to compliments. I'm just only able to give them out for stuff that's legal. So good job."

Shauna let herself smile. "What about Neal?"

"I don't praise car thieves," said Peter with a shrug and a glare. "Especially when it's my car."


	11. Being Herself S2E6

A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 6. [BEGIN SPOILERS] It takes place in the middle of the episode, when Sara shows up at Neal's house with a search warrant, looking for the package from the FAA. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

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Neal peered over the top of his book. "Would you please sit down? You're driving me crazy."

She sat down at the table, moved one of the chess pieces. It had been a game between Neal and Mozzie, but Mozzie had vanished, as usual, and now Shauna moved one of his pawns forward. "I'm just nervous."

"So am I, but you don't see me pacing holes in the carpet." Neal sighed, moved a bishop without looking at it and captured Shauna's pawn.

"You also just lied your way through a polygraph." Shauna sighed.

"You could, too, you know."

She captured his bishop, knowing full well that he'd intentionally left it unprotected. "But this isn't a polygraph, this is your house. I should be able to be myself. There's nobody here except—"

Knocks on the door. Unfamiliar knocks, not Peter, not June. Not Mozzie, because Mozzie's knocks were full of Morse code, when he bothered to knock at all. Shauna wrapped her fingers around Neal's bishop. "Expecting someone?"

But he was already up, already opening the door. "Sara?"

Sara Ellis didn't answer, only stepped aside to admit a guy who could only be a cop. "Detective Lewis."

Not good. Shauna stood, the chess piece still clenched in her hand. Sara didn't look in Shauna's direction, which was probably a good thing, because if looks could kill, Shauna's would have. And then arrests would definitely have to be made. "This is a search warrant," said the detective.

"We're looking for the stolen FAA package," said Sara, sweeping into the room as if she owned the place.

The recordings. Shauna closed her eyes, opened them again as Neal started protesting ignorance and innocence. So much for being herself. She ran forward. "Sara, what's going on?"

"I don't want to hear it, Shauna Caffrey. Or Simpson, or whatever name you're going by now." Sara ran her fingers over the bedframe. "Mid nineteenth century tiger oak?"

"I've always gone by Simpson," snapped Shauna, which was a total lie, but she'd never minded lying to Sara.

"Hand-carved," said Neal, who could do charm better than Shauna could ever hope.

"It's beautiful," said Sara, but she didn't linger. She stepped over to the wardrobe.

Neal turned around while she rattled the key in the lock. _Peter_, he mouthed. _Call him._

So Shauna backed into the shadows until her back was against an underused end-table, ignored by the detective and his men with their search warrant. She was good at shadows, good at hiding, good at being completely visible yet completely unseen. She dialed Peter's number. It went to voicemail. She didn't leave a message, only dialed again. Voicemail again.

So she called Diana, who answered. "Shauna?"

"Tell Peter to come over to Neal's. We have..." She covered the phone with her hand as the detective stepped in her direction. But he wasn't looking at her. He was waving to Sara with a yellow package in his hand. "We have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

Neal took in the package, his sister, and Sara Ellis' face with one glance. He stepped toward the center of the room. He was still smiling. "I can explain that."

Shauna fingered the drawer behind her, pulled it out and searched through it without turning around. Most people's junk drawers contained thumbtacks, screws, and rubber-bands; a Caffrey junk drawer had lock-picks. Lots of them. All different sizes. "Neal's being arrested."

"Am not." Neal was still smiling as he walked by. "I didn't steal it."

"I'll tell Peter," said Diana, though she'd surely heard Neal's protest. "He's talking with that adoption lawyer right now, but we'll be there as soon as we can."

Shauna hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and closed her fingers around the lock-pick that was the best fit she could find. She slipped it into her pocket and entered the fray. The fray being Sara Ellis. "So, what's in that package, Sara?"

"You tell me." Sara turned it over in her hand, curious, but more angry than curious.

Shauna shrugged. "Hard to tell you when we've never seen it."

"Really? How'd it get in your house then?"

Neal's voice was still calm, if a little annoyed. "This isn't my house, remember? I think you'll find that the deed belongs to June—"

Sara fixed him with a no-nonsense glare. "I doubt June has any dealings with the FAA."

"You'd be surprised." Neal grinned.

"I'm not surprised," said Sara tightly. "Throwing your elderly landlady under the bus so you can get away."

"He's not throwing anyone under the bus," said Shauna. And he wasn't. He was stalling. There was way more evidence pointing to Neal than to June, if worst came to worst. But worst wouldn't come to worst...because Peter was coming.

Who would have ever thought they would be glad Peter was coming?

And Peter was coming _too late_.

Sara gestured that the interrogation had ended, and the detective stepped forward. He grabbed one of Neal's arms, clasped the cuff around his wrist. Neal flinched, jerked away, the blood draining from his face.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can—"

Neal cut him off, his whole body taut. He wasn't running. Yet. "I'm familiar with the speech. Sara—this is a really bad time."

Sara shrugged.

"No, really, Sara!" Shauna grabbed her arm.

Sara threw her off, eyes narrowed. "Shauna _Simpson_, how old are you? Because if memory serves me correctly, you're only sixteen. Still a minor. And seeing as how you're legal guardian is being arrested, we may have to call Child Protective—"

"You're memory serves you incorrectly," said Shauna, with ice in her voice. "I'm eighteen."

"You've got the ID to prove it?"

"I do." And she did, even though it was completely faked.

Noise at the door. "Agent Burke, FBI."

Shauna had never been so glad to see the FBI in her entire life.

Neither, it seemed, had Neal. "Peter, will you please tell—"

"What's going on here?" Peter barely looked at Neal, and he didn't even notice Shauna.

Well, she could fix that. She ran up, grabbed the arm of his blazer. "Peter, you've got to stop this! Sara just waltzed in here—"

"I had a search warrant," interjected Sara.

"And starts turning the whole place upside-down," continued Shauna, without breaking flow. "And now they're going to arrest Neal, and if that happens, then tonight will tank, and Ollie will never see his mother again, and...and...and..." And she burst into brilliant, well-calculated tears.

Sara gaped for all of two seconds before scowling once again. "Neal stole a package."

"He didn't," sobbed Shauna. "We've never seen it before!"

Peter shook his arm, but Shauna pretended not to notice. She didn't let go. She wasn't letting go until they let Neal go. Peter sighed. "Detective, may I speak with Mr. Caffrey please?"

The detective hesitated only a second. "Sure."

"Thank you." Peter waited until Sara and the detective were far enough away before shaking Shauna off successfully and approaching Neal. "Did you steal it?"

Neal shook his head quickly. Honestly. "No."

"He didn't," said Shauna, whispering now, straining her voice through fake tears.

"Mozzie?"

Neal didn't answer that one, honestly or dishonestly. He just shrugged.

Peter scowled. "You realize what this—"

"Yes." Neal met Shauna's eyes.

She sucked in a breath. "What's going to happen to Ollie?"

"That's enough, Shauna," said Peter quietly. He looked at Neal. "You can't play if you're in jail."

"I know," said Neal. His eyes were on Sara, who was glaring at them all. "She's mad."

"Yeah." Peter raised his eyebrows as if Neal had just been brilliant enough to point out that the sky was blue.

"Please talk to her," whimpered Shauna, who hated to whimper. "Just get her to delay pressing charges until tomorrow."

A lot could happen before tomorrow. Especially since they were removing Neal's tracking anklet for the evening. It was more than enough time to leave town. Or the country.

"I'll talk to her," said Peter. He looked down at Shauna. "I'm not the villain here. You can stop crying."

Shauna sucked the down the last of her artificial sobs. "S-stop?"

"Yeah. Stop. You're making me feel manipulated."

"Is it working?"

He paused, head cocked to one side. "We'll see." He cleared his throat. "Sara!"

As he left to convince Sara to delay pressing charges, Shauna took a deep breath and pushed her hand into her pocket. "I am way too old for that."

"Nope. You're still brilliant." Neal forced a grin. Difficult to grin while handcuffed.

"I feel ridiculous."

"You gave a performance worthy of Broadway. I was impressed. It was beautiful."

"Well," said Shauna, slipping her hand into his, even though his was cuffed behind his back. "I did learn from the best."

"That you did," said Neal, slipping the lock-pick from her fingers and letting it disappear between the knuckles of his left hand. "That you most definitely did."


	12. Rubbing Off S2E7

~~~~ A/N: Shauna's episodes will continue in a series of one-shots as long as my addiction to _White Collar_ lasts, which will probably be until the show ends, which will hopefully be never. Rated T just in case. Neal, Peter, and the rest of the gang (including a couple of quotes) do not belong to me, but to the brilliant writers of a brilliant show.

~~~~ This episode has spoilers through Season 2 Episode 7. [BEGIN SPOILERS] It takes place in the middle of the episode, when Peter Burke and Jack Franklin meet Jones and Neal at the parking lot, after Burke and Franklin have stolen Stan's Lamborghini. If, of course, during the show Neal had a sixteen-year-old sister named Shauna Caffrey. :)

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"He wanted to hot wire _that_?" Shauna unbuckled her seat belt as Jones parked the car. Peter and another guy, had to be the runaway Jack Franklin, were in the empty parking lot, standing beside a sweet Lamborghini.

"Impossible, I know." Neal opened his door. "Come on."

"Well, not entirely impossible..." Shauna's voice trailed off as Neal's eyes met hers in the rear view mirror. Jones was in the car. Jones was FBI. "At least, it wouldn't have been impossible if you'd been there."

"But I wasn't." Neal stepped out of the car, squinted into the sun and shouted across the lot to the agents. "That car's got a tracking device as good as my anklet."

Shauna hid a smile as she got out and hurried over to Peter and Franklin. They looked safe and unharmed, though seeing Peter in street clothes was a little disconcerting.

Peter's next request, directed at Neal, was just as out-of-character. "Can you disable it? The tracking device."

Neal and Shauna shared a quick glance. Things had just gotten a lot more illegal.

They weren't the only ones to notice. Jones was the last one out of the car. "Why, you're not coming in?"

Peter gritted his teeth. "It's complicated."

"No," said Shauna. "Relationships are complicated. This...this is just going to get us, I mean, it's going to get Neal in trouble."

"I can take care of myself," said Neal, cocky, because disabling a GPS device was the easiest thing in the world. Shauna herself could have done it, if she'd been asked. But she hadn't, which was probably for the better.

"I know that, but you don't have to take care of Peter, too." Shauna eyed Burke, who eyed her back with something like hurt in his eyes. She backtracked. "It's not like I don't like you. I like you. You're the nicest FBI agent I've ever met. But this is...risky."

"Yeah?" Burke held her gaze. "Of course it's risky. But Neal knows I would do the same for him."

Both Caffreys raised their eyebrows. A grin spread across Neal's face. "I'll keep that in mind."

Shauna sighed. Neal was in. Which meant she was in, too, like it or not.

"We've got to lose the Marshals," Burke told Neal.

"They're not going to be far behind us," warned Shauna.

Peter met Neal's eyes. "Then you better get started."

Neal considered the car for a second, his head tipped to the side. Making a big show of a job that would take him less than a minute. Shauna rolled her eyes. "Think you can do it?"

"I'll do my best." He shrugged out of his beloved blazer, handed it without a thank-you to Peter Burke, and strode to the car.

"Oh," said Peter, considering his new role as coat-rack. "Of course."

Shauna watched as her brother reached down beneath the glove compartment. "It's a new model."

"I've got it," said Neal.

"We haven't, um, looked into this model before. You were in prison when it came out." She bent down and peered into the darkness with him.

"Don't worry," said Neal. "Move, you're blocking the sunlight."

"What was he in prison for?" asked the new FBI agent, Jack Franklin, the one on-the-run. In theory, anyone running from the FBI could be trusted. In theory.

Shauna shrugged. "Bond forgery."

Ex-agent Franklin sighed. "I should have called Rebecca for this."

"His CI," explained Burke. "She's into cars."

"She'd already have this done," said Franklin, shifting from side-to-side. The man looked more than nervous. Needed some serious lessons from Neal Caffrey on how to be on the run without looking like you were on the run.

Bent over double beneath the glove-box, Neal cleared his throat, unimpressed with Franklin's lack of respect. "Do I understand correctly that Peter Burke is on the run? The same Peter Burke who would neeevvverrr run..."

Burke the coat-rack finally snapped. "No talking."

Shauna pressed her lips together to hide her smirk, and Neal emerged with his sleeves wrinkled and his hair mussed, but otherwise none the worse for wear. "Tracking disabled." He weighed the device in his hand, pulled his coat from Burke's arm, and paused with his eyes narrowed. "You okay?"

"Getting there," said Peter.

"I don't think he realized how stressful it was to be a fugitive." Shauna grinned and helped her brother back into his blazer.

"Definitely takes some years off," agreed Neal. He tossed the now-disabled tracking device to Peter.

Burke caught it, looked it over. "I have a new respect for your anklet. Still there after all these months."

"It's not still there because he can't disable it," said Shauna wryly. "It's still there because if he _did_ disable it, you'd be getting a phone call from the Marshals."

Peter closed his eyes as if trying to forget what Shauna had said. "Speaking of the Marshals, we're going to need a place to hide out until we figure out our next steps."

"I think I can manage that," said Neal, his shoulders straightening a little at being called upon for help, at being the one in charge of the situation.

"Really?" Shauna jerked her head toward ex-agent Franklin, who was following Peter to talk to Jones, dropping her voice so that they couldn't hear. "You think you can convince Mozzie to hide _him_? Peter, maybe. But a guy who's willing to risk his life for the integrity of the Great Federal Bureau of Investigation? Never."

"Well," said Neal, squinting up into the sun, "that's why you can make the call. I have to go back to the office."

"Oh, no you don't."

"Oh, yes I do." He grinned, patted her head, turned toward the car they'd arrived in.

Her voice rose, not that it made a difference to his retreating back. "You are not leaving me with this problem!"

"What problem?" Peter walked back from where he'd been talking with Jones.

Shauna took a deep breath, let it out, smiled thinly. There was no going back now. "I'm going to help you find your hide-out."

"What? I thought Neal—"

"So did I." She pulled her phone out of her pocket, made the call to Mozzie and held it to her ear as it dialed. "So. Did. I."

Mozzie answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mozz, it's Shauna. I need a favor."

"You? Or Neal?"

"Both, but I'm making the call. I need—"

"Do you know how many favors you two have called in? Do you see me calling in favors? Oh, no, no you do not."

"What about Gina?" Shauna stepped away from Peter, who was mouthing things about Marshals and running out of time.

"Well...there was Gina." Mozzie paused. "Does this involve the FBI?"

"Um...yes. But it's not what you think. They're on the run from the FBI. Need a place to hide."

"They? Peter and Neal? What have they done now? Why is Neal running from the FBI again? I don't need that—"

"No! No, no, not that." Shauna turned her back to Peter and Franklin, watching out of the corner of her eye as Neal got into Jones' car and shut the door. "Neal's not running. It's Peter..."

"And...?"

"And another FBI agent." She didn't get any further than that. She didn't expect to.

"Two FBI agents? Are you out of your mind, Shauna Caffrey? You think I'm going to hide _two_ FBI agents? Where's your brother? Let me talk to him!"

"He's just leaving." And he was. Their car was pulling out of the parking lot. Gone. Leaving her with this mess.

"I'll call him."

"No!" She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. "Don't call him. The Marshals are probably already tapping his phone."

"The Marshals?" Mozzie paused, then sighed. "Do I want to know?"

"Peter and...and his friend just need a place to think." Shauna bit her lip. "It shouldn't be long."

For a long time, Mozzie said nothing. Then, "How about Tuesday?"

"Thank you, Mozzie." Shauna closed her eyes in relief, then turned around and gestured for Peter and Franklin to get in the car. "Where do you want to meet?"

"The alley across the street. I want to make sure this other agent checks out." There was resignation in Mozzie's voice. "I liked Tuesday."

Shauna slid into the backseat of the stolen Lamborghini. "You could probably keep it. Peter wouldn't come back."

"No, no, can't keep it." He cleared his throat. "How long will it take you to get here?"

"Fifteen minutes at least." She watched as Franklin sat down in the passenger seat. He didn't look back at her.

"See you then."

Shauna flipped her phone shut and motioned for Peter to sit down and drive. "Thirty-fourth and ninth."

Peter the coat-rack-turned-chauffeur put the car in reverse. "I take it he wasn't thrilled about Franklin."

"No," said Shauna, "but he'll live."

"Who is this guy?" asked Franklin.

"A friend," said Shauna and Peter at the same time.

"Well," said Peter, "he's a friend of a friend. But he's on our side."

"Don't let him hear you say that," said Shauna. She grinned into the wind as Peter stepped on the gas. "Nice ride."

"First time?" Franklin caught her eye in the rear-view mirror, almost smiling.

"Um..." Shauna bit her lip. "Not exactly."

Franklin looked at Burke, who smiled thinly. "I bet it's her first time _legally_."

"Or it would be," said Shauna, "except I'm pretty sure this Lamborghini was stolen, too."

Peter didn't answer.

"Neal must be rubbing off," continued Shauna, smiling.

"No talking."


End file.
